


Wake Me Up (When It's All Over)

by missjo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjo/pseuds/missjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his dreams Jimmy's mum gives him some advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up (When It's All Over)

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a short story that I was writing to deal with really missing my mom this time of the year but it rapidly turned into a Thommy ficlet instead. Mainly because I really enjoy making Jimmy cry (apologies for that). Also I have a lot of headcanon about Jimmy’s parents and such. Er. Lyrics from "Only If For A Night" by the super talented Florence and the Machine and title from "Wake Me Up" by Avicii because it makes me think of Jimmy Kent a lot for some reason.

_Then I heard your voice as clear as day,_   
_And you told me I should concentrate,_   
_It was all so strange,_   
_And so surreal,_   
_That a ghost should be so practical._

 

Jimmy must have fallen into a fever-induced sleep. One moment he was staring up at his ceiling aching all over, wanting to die, and the next he was standing on the green near the church his mum had taken him to every Sunday as a boy. Off in the distance he could hear the sound of children playing and it filled him with an unexplainable sadness. He sniffed and wiped at his tearful eyes with the back of his fist, feeling horribly maudlin and lonely, and looked down at his shoes.

His feet seemed much too small and he was wearing a suit that seemed familiar yet not. It took him a moment to realize he was wearing the suit his mum had given him on his tenth birthday. He had tried to wear it everywhere until he’d eventually outgrown it, getting it all muddied up much to his poor mum’s chagrin. But now it was as pristine as the day he’d gotten it. Jimmy fiddled with the sleeve in confusion.

“Jimmy, my handsome boy, are you crying?”

He turned when he heard the warm, familiar voice and saw his mum standing not far from him. She was young and healthy and beautiful. A lump formed in Jimmy’s throat as he took in her dirty blond hair twisted up in her usual bun and her blue eyes, so like Jimmy’s own yet kinder.

“Mum,” he croaked out and felt fresh tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

She took a few quick strides to reach him. “Oh, my sweet boy, what’s the matter?” she asked softly. Jimmy put his arms around her middle, pressing his face into the soft comfort of her belly. His shoulders shook as he let his tears fall silently down his cheeks.

“My, my,” she murmured and gently removed herself from his hold to sink down onto her knees in the grass. She looked him in the eye and wiped his tears away. “What’s all this, then?”

“I’ve been so lonely with you gone,” Jimmy told her honestly, his voice watery with tears. Normally such a blatant display of emotions would embarrass him but not with his mum. He never needed to be embarrassed when she was there.

“Surely not. What about your friends playing over there?” she asked, motioning in the general direction of the children’s laughter. “They would make for much better company than your ol’ mum.” She gave him a wry grin so similar to his own.

Jimmy shook his head and frowned. “They’re not my friends. They don’t even like me. Much. No one likes me but you, Mum. I’ve never been any good at makin’ people love me. Not really love me. Not like you do.”

She smoothed his hair down soothingly. “Nonsense. How could anyone not love my darling boy?”

Jimmy shrugged and looked down at his shoes.

“I’m selfish,” he spit out after a few seconds of silence had hung between them. “I’m selfish and I’m shallow. People realize soon enough that there’s not much to me besides me looks. I have no goals, not really, and I’m cruel to those that do. Whenever I try to do the right thing I still do wrong and no matter what I feel insufferable and desperately unhappy.”

She waited patiently for him to finish. “Do you feel better now? With all of that out of you?”

The firm edge to her tone shocked him. “What?”

“If you’d stop feeling so terribly sorry for yourself and pay attention, I think you’d find out how very wrong you are, Jimmy,” she told him firmly but not unkindly. “Perhaps there’s someone you’ve overlooked.”

“Who?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She looked behind her suddenly and then back to him. “I must leave you now, my darling boy.”

Jimmy felt his stomach clench in panic. “No. You can’t leave me,” he insisted, shaky desperation in his voice.

“But I must, sweet one, I must. And you must wake up,” she told him gently and kissed his cheek. “There is someone who loves you, desperately, if you’d only pay attention. Please do and be happy. For me.”

He nodded, lower lip quivering as he fought to hold back the tears. He had so much he wanted to say to her but didn’t trust himself to speak around the thick feeling in his throat.

“That’s my good boy. Wake up now,” she murmured into his ear.

“I love you. I miss you so much,” he told her then, rushing his words together, as things began to fade around him. She had to know; she deserved to know.

“Wake up, Jimmy,” he heard her whisper one more time before everything faded away and he was once again looking up at the ceiling.

His heart felt heavy, laden down with loneliness and emptiness, and he could feel tears drying on his cheeks. He reached up to press his fingertips against them and blinked away the fresh ones threatening to fall with a pitiful sniff.

“Jimmy?”

Startled at the sound of someone else’s voice in his room, Jimmy whipped his head to the side to find Thomas — _Mr. Barrow_ , he reminded himself — sitting in the chair beside his bed. The idea that Mr. Barrow may have seen him crying in his sleep was mortifying. Jimmy looked away from him and down at the rough, scratchy blanket he had tucked around himself. Blush warmed his already fevered cheeks.

“What’re you doin’ in here, Mr. Barrow?” he asked and winced at the way it echoed what he’d said the last time he’d woken to find this man in his room. Even though it had been years ago, the memory of that night still made Jimmy’s stomach twist unpleasantly.

It bothered Jimmy that after so many years of friendship with Mr. Barrow — and it was a true friendship no matter how or why it had started out — that there was still discomfort between them. They were still so careful around each other. Well, to be fair, Mr. Barrow was careful around Jimmy and Jimmy tried his best. He wasn’t quite sure how to fix it now that it had gone on so long.

Jimmy glanced at Mr. Barrow out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting straight and stiff in the chair with his hands gripping his knees tightly. Jimmy was pretty sure he was blushing. It always caught him off guard, the effect he could have on so proud a man. The reminder of it suddenly made it difficult to swallow.

_“Pay attention.”_

Jimmy blinked and forced himself to look at Mr. Barrow properly.

“Er, I was bringin’ you up a tray and when I came in you seemed to be having a fever fit or somethin’ so I thought — I can leave, now you’re awake,” he explained stiffly.

Something softened in Jimmy’s chest as he watched Thomas — ‘ _Mr. Barrow_ , Jimmy,’ his mind hissed at him — fidget and look anywhere but at Jimmy’s face as he spoke. When he stood to leave Jimmy reached out and gently took his wrist.

“No need to run out so quickly, Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy told him with as cheeky a grin as he could manage. “M’not gonna ring the police because you sat vigil at my bedside. Bring that tray over, would you?”

Thomas — _Mr. Barrow_ — nodded and gave him a tight smile. He jerked away from Jimmy’s touch and took the tray from the dresser.

It was strange seeing the other man in his room. It was an unspoken rule between them that neither of them entered the other’s room without permission. Even with permission it was rare. Jimmy found he couldn’t keep his eyes off him as he moved around.

“Did I do anythin’, y’know, embarrassing while I was asleep?” Jimmy asked while the tray was set on his lap. He looked down at it instead of at Thomas — sod it, his brain was too muddled with fever for anymore corrections — and noted that there was toast slathered with jam, two orange wedges, and a cup of tea.

Thomas returned to his seat stiffly and seemed to seriously contemplate his answer before giving it. “Y’looked like you were crying,” he admitted while Jimmy began to tuck into his meal. “Wanted to make sure you were alright. Not in any pain or…”

Jimmy smiled weakly and took a sip of his tea. It had cooled a bit but it was still warm enough to soothe his sore throat.

“Are you?” Thomas pressed.

“Hm?” he mumbled distractedly around another bite of toast.

“Are you alright, Jimmy?” Thomas asked again softly, carefully.

Jimmy looked over at Thomas — yes, _Thomas_ — and felt something loosen up inside of him. There was something very kind in those gray-blue eyes that made Jimmy’s defenses whittle away into nothing. He smiled weakly and set down his half finished cup of tea.

“I s’pose so… nothin’ hurts, really. Well, I ache all over but nothing’s so bad. It’s just…” he murmured, suddenly self conscious at the idea of being so honest with anyone. But this wasn’t just anyone, this was _Thomas_. Thomas would never judge him for a thing. “Just, I was dreaming, is all. About my mum.”

Thomas frowned. “I’m sorry. You must miss her.”

“Terribly. When I’m sick. I’m rotten at it and she always did the best job puttin’ up with me. Takin’ care of me.” He shrugged. “Could never do no wrong by her. I miss that too,” he admitted softly.

Thomas dragged the chair closer to Jimmy’s bed. “Must be hard to lose someone who loves you so much.”

“I’m sure you —” Thomas shook his head with a sardonic grin. “Oh.” His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought of Thomas feeling so unloved. He suddenly found it hard to look at him and so he looked away, back to the rough blanket. “It hurts terribly. I’ve never felt so alone in all my life as I have these past few years. Like a boat with no ore or… or somethin’.”

Jimmy watched as Thomas’s good hand twitched, as if it wanted to cover Jimmy’s own but instead held itself back. That twist came back to Jimmy’s stomach again. He reached out to take Thomas’s hand in his own impulsively. The skin of Thomas’s hand was smooth and cool against his own. He squeezed it and it suddenly felt like an anchor. Like he could take some of Thomas’s strength and bravery into himself through it.

When he finally got enough courage to look up at him he saw hope and confusion warring in Thomas’s eyes. Thomas loved him — still, _always_ — Jimmy realized with a pang in his heart. He heard his mum whispering to _pay attention_ again. Suddenly everything was tilting on its axis and then it all slid into place. He squeezed Thomas’s hand again as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Perhaps not so alone then,” he murmured, half to himself, and looked at their joined hands.

Thomas sat still for a few seconds before slowly pulling his hand away from Jimmy’s grasp. “Should be getting back,” he told him stiffly and stood from the chair. “Carson has me serving in your place tonight and I need to change my livery.”

Jimmy nodded and smiled shyly at him.

“But after? Will you visit? Read to me or something?” he asked, not quite stopping the hopeful quivering in his voice.

Thomas smiled at him and Jimmy felt his heart seize in his chest. How had he never noticed this before? How could he have been so wrong about himself?

“If y’like. Get some rest now,” Thomas replied and then left the room.

Jimmy wasn’t sure how much rest he would get waiting with such excitement for Thomas to return. ‘Soon,’ he told himself. ‘When I’m better I’ll make sure he knows. _Soon_.”


End file.
